Subtle
by transcendently
Summary: And one day, Ryohei realizes something. Ryohei x Gokudera
1. Chapter 1

I guess I should be embarrassed about doing this again.

...OH WELL. 8Db

* * *

**Subtle**

And on a melancholy, rainy-looking Sunday, on the twenty-second of March, Sasagawa Ryohei realizes that he was irreversibly, uncontrollably in love with Gokudera Hayato. It sounded alright in his head—at least for the first twenty or so minutes, until halfway through lunch he abruptly stands up, a salad leaf halfway to his mouth, silverware dropped on the floor, and gaping at his filet mignon as if it just commented on the current state of European politics. With an American accent.

"BUT DUDE. HE'S A _DUDE_."

His subconscious merely rolled its eyes. _So?_ "SO…SO….!" Ryohei splutters out loud, amidst the curious stares of the restaurant patrons around him and his date sitting across from him with a concerned expression on her face.

_Dumbass_, his subconscious sneered until falling silent, as Ryohei opened and closed his mouth, unable to utter his usual derogatory remarks because hell, this was a VOICE INSIDE HIS HEAD (not that it really mattered, it happened relatively often enough) and he was in a PUBLIC PLACE with a HOT GIRL—except that the restaurant patrons were slowly trickling out and his date had snuck off and left him with the tab, not wanting to be associated with an unstable schizophrenic.

Well. That fucking sucks.

* * *

So now that he was in love with a GUY and mind you, _UNWILLINGLY SO_, Sasagawa Ryohei decided that the only way to solve this was to take it like a real MAN and QUIT MOPING AROUND, GODDAMMIT. Which basically meant locking himself in his room and spend the next four hours jacking off to lesbian nun porn. Except it didn't work and it didn't make him any less gay for one mafiaoso right hand man.

Maybe he needed some help.

* * *

"Oh, well, if you're in love, onii-san, maybe you should tell him how you feel—"

"OKAYNEVERMINDHAHAHAI'LLSEEYOULATERKYOKO."

* * *

"You gotta tell me, man," Ryohei pleaded, all but getting on his knees and clasping his hands as if in desperate prayer, "You just gotta—'cause pretty soon I'll be color-coordinating my suits and singing soundtracks from musicals and buying matching curtains and tea towels and talking at NORMAL DECIBELS and being a whiny bitch and—" here he gulped, and lowered his voice considerably, "give up boxing."

Hibari blinks.

Ryohei lunges, half-deranged and grasps on the front of Hibari's Armani, with a crazed, homicidal look in his eyes. "YOU GOTTA LET ME IN ON THE SECRET." "What secret—" "HOW DO YOU BECOME ASEXUAL?"

* * *

Yamamoto couldn't stop laughing.

"Are you sure?" he choked out as he finally calmed down, wiping away tears in his eyes, "Shit dude, you've got horrible taste."

Ryohei couldn't really argue with that claim, so he grumbled relatively quietly, shifting the ice pack from one hand to the other, covering the nasty black eye underneath.

"Though…" Yamamoto contemplated, pointing upwards with his index finger, "the best thing is to tell him exactly what's going on." He smiles winningly, a salesman smile. "And if he doesn't maim you, then you can be assured he feels the same way."

Ryohei nods and decides on next Tuesday. Next Tuesday gives him enough time to write a will.

* * *

"WOULD YOU FUCKING STOP THAT?!" he blurted out (quite conveniently) the next Tuesday, complete with over-exuberant gesturing and a horrified look on his face. "God, stop—stop dressing up like a FUCKING WHORE, you sad excuse of a MAN."

And somewhere in Gokudera Hayato's admittedly small reservoir of patience, the last strand snapped.

"_What?_"

"Look how fucking tight your pants are! I mean- your ass is like practically SHOVED IN MY FACE." Ryohei elaborated accusatively, immune to the death glare that Gokudera was sending out. "IT'S LIKE YOU'RE _ASKING_ TO BE RAPED."

A beat. A very, very, long, drawn-out, sickeningly long beat.

"You make one more remark about my ass and I'll rip your spine out and beat you with it."

"Yessir."

* * *

Well. This was vaguely shitty.

It wasn't completely shitty because the fact still stands that one Sasagawa Ryohei was still able to respire and intake nutrients without the support of machines, but being ignored as if he never existed?

Still pretty shitty.

So he spends his days watching soap operas and walking around, (why bother running, it gets you all gross and sweaty anyways) and sometimes even sitting across the street from Gokudera's apartment, pelting stones at the window, settling for the fact that he was going to die alone and unloved.

Not to mention gay.

"GODDAMMITFUCKINGHELLDAMMITDAMMITDAMMIT." He sobs out (in a very manly fashion), pitching the rock with as much vigour as he could muster. Which coincidentally was enough to shatter the entire window.

Ryohei winces slightly as he hears a yelp and wonders if it's a good time to make his escape. But he doesn't get very far, as Gokudera pulls up his window (which Ryohei couldn't help but find comical, the entire thing was broken already) and hollers down at Ryohei, "WHAT TOOK YOU SO FUCKING LONG?"

Silence.

"_WELL_?"

At this, Ryohei frowned, bewildered at the idea that there were actually people who supported vandalism of their own property as his sense of irrational anger bubbled away within his stomach. He points up at Gokudera, confusion marring his face, "WELL WHAT, BITCH?"

"WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY ROSES, LAWNHEAD?"

_…what_.

Maybe it was out of awkwardness of watching Ryohei's slack jaw metaphorically and almost literally dropping to the ground, or the blatant mortification of announcing to the world (which consisted of two passerbys and a dog at a fire hydrant) that one Gokudera Hayato _actually wanted roses from Sasagawa Ryohei_. Either way, Gokudera quickly ducks inside and slams the window shut (again, slightly comical), not able to face Ryohei.

Three floors down, on the other side of the street between a beat up scooter and a bus stop sign, Sasagawa Ryohei almost laughs himself to asphyxiation.

(And in the next three hours, as Ryohei went to buy an entire shop's worth of roses, chuck them one by one into Gokudera's open-yet-closed window, had a public verbal spar over his embarrassing lack of Emotional Intelligence, was finally, very subtly, invited upstairs, and had his first ever 'accidental-we-are-never-doing/speaking-of-that-again' kiss with a guy, but winds up staying for dinner anyways for his second, third, and fourth 'AWAND/SOTA' kiss, he realizes: Love fucking rocks.)

End.

There's really only one way to write a Ryohei/Gokudera fic: 1) Think up the most ridiculous scenario possible. 2) Write it down.

**THAT'S IT**.

Thanks for reading guys!


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes:** Wow! I never thought that this ridiculous piece would garner any sort of attention, but it looks like I was wrong. xDD Thank you all for your support! This is maybe sorta I guess a continuation of **Subtle**, though...yeah. Most likely it'll be just as stupid. xD;; Please enjoy!

**Luck**

Simply put, living with Sasagawa Ryohei was hell.

Gokudera actually tried to not think about it, and honestly put effort into pretending that it wasn't true and that he was perfectly happy about it.

He really, _really_, did.

But after the fifteenth consecutive morning of rolling off the bed and landing on the ground with a loud _THUMP_ because Ryohei had left him there alone for the sake of a four AM run, he realized that lying to himself wasn't going to get him anywhere.

Or a better way of waking up.

What was more depressing than being shoved aside like a one-night stand was the fact that _every goddamn thing in the whole goddamn place smelled like…like…_Gokudera scrunched his nose, trying to put a name to the stench that lingered on everything he ever owned and loved.

Endorphins. And Sunshine.

…well, whatever it was, it was fucking pissing him off.

It didn't get any better when Ryohei returned from his morning jog, fully pumped with confidence and testosterone bursts into the room like a one-man herd of wildebeests, slamming Gokudera into the opposite wall at the sheer force of the wind of the swinging door (and no, it wasn't that he had a feminine build and/or was clumsy, thanks for asking).

Ryohei took a moment to search the apartment for Gokudera before spotting the pathetic lump in front of him, knelt down to the crumpled form, clapped Gokudera on the back and laughed. Obnoxiously loud (as if there was any other way to describe the horrible sound). "Hey, what the hell happened to you? You look like you got BRUTALLY FUCKED. REPEATEDLY."

"…"

"Uh. Which is EXTREMELY SEXY. And-- IGUESSI'MGOINGTOGORUNNOW."

And laying prone on the floor as the door slams shut, Gokudera wonders (again for the thousandth time) if there really is goodness and integrity to be found on the journey of life. Followed by bitter laughter and the decision to spend the rest of day throwing stuff out the window at unsuspecting passerbys. Wouldn't do to break the habit.

--

But the _absolute_ worst thing couldn't be compared to any of the inane bullshit that went on daily because at night, Gokudera would have horrible, terrible nightmares of being left alone on a cliff and crushed by a gigantic boulder. He could feel his throat constricting, his chest cracking under the weight, and the dread of utter doom and despair.

Only to wake up and discover that it all was very much real. It was actually even worse because the "boulder" was not only heavy, big, and stupid, but fucking _clingy_ too. Gokudera attempts to wriggle out of Ryohei's death grip, only to be held on tighter and feeling his ribs bend inwards under the immense pressure, vision going hazy and no particularly memorable 'last words' in mind.

But even though it kind of sucked being almost crushed to death by your own boyfriend and how much easier it would be to simply kick Ryohei out or how ultimately satisfying it would be to see him with his face kissing asphalt, Gokudera simply waits until Ryohei loosens his hold on him (all without swatting at his head). And softly, very softly, he presses his lips against the man's neck, slip his arms around the waist and drifts off, feeling amazingly lucky; simply, astoundingly lucky.

--

Simply put, living with Gokudera Hayato was hell.

_Wait, scratch that_, Ryohei thought darkly, shoulders hunched and concentrating on the small-patch-of-something-on-the-wall past Gokudera's shoulder and attempting to tune out yet another one of Gokudera's bitching marathon, _there are no words to describe this sort of ear rape_.

Actually, it wouldn't have been all that bad if it wasn't for the fact that Gokudera had the uncanny ability to bitch about anything if he really put his mind to it, which included rather innocuous things like small children, pigeons, and space aliens.

"Who the fuck does she think she is, cutting me off like that; I wasn't the one going 140 over like a dumbass, motherfucking, cunty crack-whore bimbo…"

And housewives, apparently.

"Hey, man, my game's starting to the limit in two seconds, and…"

"And _THEN_ this PIECE OF SHIT thinks he can take my goddamn place at the counter like he owns the goddamn place, fuck, and his stupid hairpiece, I thought I was going to have to rip the damn thing off and stuff it in his stupid mouth…."

"I can't hear anything besides your girly, pansy-ass bitching…"

"What was that?"

"No, no, go on, I'm listening."

--

But by far the worst thing about living with Mr. Anger Management was spending sleepless nights getting kicked, slapped, and punched by an unconscious Gokudera, who often mumbled rather sinister and creative curses under his breath ("and I'll rip out your eyes and put them in a blender, that's right, you disgusting shitass fuckmother bastard..."), which were actually quite terrifying as Ryohei put up with blow after blow to his stomach, trying to smile through it. But after the seventy-fourth time of being punched right below his rib cage, it was getting kind of painful.

But even if he tried to pull away, Gokudera would increase his murderous mutterings and grab Ryohei by the shoulders and placed himself right next to the man, being content for a few minutes before clawing and growling again. Ryohei stifled a pained groan, imagining that his face was going through uncontrollable spasms that looked like he was horribly constipated or something, and hoped to God that Gokudera didn't wake up and catch him in his anguish of experiencing unbelievable pain.

But even though it kinda blows that Gokudera's punches actually _hurt_ or that he couldn't move to make the internal bleeding stop, and how it would be better if he simply got up and left and laugh in Gokudera's face while making his getaway, Ryohei simply waits until Gokudera calms down before wrapping an arm around the man's shoulders, landing a brief kiss on the bed of grey hair, and pulls Gokudera close before closing his eyes, wondering how he managed to be so lucky; so incredibly, wonderfully lucky.

End


End file.
